


Pillow Fights

by Lafaiette



Category: Deadpool (Comics), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Comfort, Control Issues, Humor, M/M, Pillow Fights
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-31
Updated: 2013-12-31
Packaged: 2018-01-06 21:35:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1111772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lafaiette/pseuds/Lafaiette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two Spideypool pillow fights with different outcomes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Frame

“It’s not fair if you crawl on the ceiling!” Wade complains childishly throwing another pillow at Peter, who dodges it effortlessly.

“You’re too slow!” he mocks and Wade groans and rolls his eyes at the videogame reference.

“You are up there just because you _know_ you were going to lose _down here_.” the merc grumbles picking up his pillow again and aiming at the fast man on the ceiling.

“Actually I’m trying to make things interesting. You are _so bad_ at this, Wade!” Peter laughs and jumps away as Wade grunts and tries to hit him again, without results.

The merc gets distracted just for few seconds to retrieve his fellow soft weapon, but it’s enough for Peter to launch his own cushion, which hits the older man’s butt.

“Ow! You little…!”

“Aw, what are you gonna do?” Peter coos, looking at Wade upside down, another pillow already in his hands, taken from the sofa using webs. “You can’t reach me! Your throws are laaame.” He sticks out his tongue and laughs excitedly again when Wade grins mischievously.

“You think you are tough, sweetums?” the merc says with low, hoarse voice. “Don’t be so cocky. Oh, I said ‘cock’!” He giggles with a hand on his mouth.

“Kindergarten children are more mature than you.” Peter snorts throwing at him another pillow with speed and accuracy. The scarred man lets out a surprised, sharp cry, but then he picks up the offending object, laughing triumphantly.

“Hah! Thanks for the second…”

“Oh, honey, I don’t think so.” Peter flicks his wrist and the pillow is in his arms again.

“This is _war!_ ” Wade roars and storms out of the room, leaving a dumbstruck Peter on the ceiling.

“Wade? Wade, don’t cry!” he says out loud to be heard. “You are not that bad, honey, you are just slow as hell!”

He smiles hearing Wade’s heavy footsteps and gets back on the floor, body tense and ready to move, but face relaxed.

“If this was a katana fight, you would totally win! So we’re even!” His smile disappears, though, when Wade jumps into the room with a roar and a mattress lifted above his head.

“If I can’t hit you with the smaller ones, I’ll just use the big one!” he laughs maniacally and before Peter can protest or even dodge, he launches the mattress with beautiful precision.

Peter yelps and tumbles against the small table behind his back, making what’s on it fall down with a huge crash.

“Ha-ah!” Wade exclaims, hands on his hips. “The noisy little spider has been finally defeated! Another victory for the amazing Wade Wilson!” He waits a few seconds for Peter’s sassy reply and when it doesn’t arrive he frowns, confused: “Petey? Aren’t you suppose to say something now? Like a witty retort or - that would be great - a compliment? I didn’t kill you, did I?”

Wade walks around the mattress, which is blocking his view from Peter, and sees him kneeled on the floor, rearranging what fallen from the table.

It’s a frame, now broken, containing a picture of Uncle Ben.

“Oh, _shit_.” Wade curses under his breath. Peter’s face is unreadable, but his lips are set in a straight line and he moves quickly and carefully, picking up the pieces of broken glass and the damaged frame with extreme delicacy. The photo inside is a bit creased too.

“Peter, I’m sorry.” Wade says softly kneeling beside him. “I… I didn’t see it, I swear.”

“It’s okay.” Peter answers in a low voice, not looking at him, but at the photo. Two fingers caress the smiling, wrinkled face and then Peter resumes cleaning the smaller pieces of glass off the floor. Wade helps him, mortified, trying to come up with something good to say, the right words.

But he’s not good at this kind of conversations, so he can just open and close his mouth, staring at the way Peter collect every piece in a single pile and gently removes the photo from the frame. He looks at it one last time before tucking it in his pocket, eyes filled by nostalgia and the ever-present guilt.

“Peter…” Wade calls him, reaching out to take his hand. Peter raises his eyes and gives him a small, brief smile.

“Don’t worry. There should be a spare frame somewhere in the house.”

But _fuck_ , Wade feels bad. Even if Peter smiled - albeit weakly - at him and found a second frame to put the photo in, he feels like shit. He knows how much Peter loved his uncle, he knows how much he still hates himself for what happened to him. It’s a small thing - the picture isn’t damaged, there haven’t been disastrous consequences -, but it’s an _important_ thing and Wade suddenly wants to punch himself in his ugly-ass face for what he did.

“I… I’ll put this back.” he mumbles taking the mattress and Peter just nods, serious and distant, maybe lost into his own memories, maybe into annoyance and anger.

“Fuck!” Wade mutters, talking to himself and rearranging their bed as it was before. “You are a fucking asshole, Wade! Of course you had to hit _that!_ Why do you always have to go the whole hog with everything?” He is relieved his voice disappeared time ago, otherwise this conversation would be much more painful. “Okay, think, you freak of nature. It’s not that late, you could go out and buy Peter something.”

He thinks and thinks and thinks some more, but everything seems stupid, everything is cliché and childish. When he’s done with the bed, he gets back into the living room and kitchenette, where Peter is making things ready for dinner. Wade scratches his head - not caring about the painful scabs, they are gonna bleed anyway - and clears his voice. Peter acknowledges him with a ‘mh’ and another nod.

Wade isn’t exactly sure of what he is going to say, but his brain stops working when he sees the new frame on the small table. It’s not as beautiful and elegant as the previous one, it’s clearly old and cheap.

“What?” Peter asks, his tone dangerously neutral. He is still not looking at Wade though, pretending to be too busy with food.

“I… I’m going out. Just for a few minutes.” Now Peter does look at him. It’s more like a glare though.

“Dinner is almost ready.” he points out, scowl ready to appear on his pretty face.

“I know, but I swear, baby boy, I’ll come back in a second!”

_‘How difficult can finding a frame be?’_

Wade is already at the door, jacket in hand, cap firmly placed on his head. He can see Peter going ‘full frown’ mode and he hesitates for a moment, before smiling and blowing him a kiss.

“Don’t be late!” it’s the last thing he hears before closing the door.

 

“I’m late.” Wade whines rummaging through his pocket to find his key. “Peter is gonna web me on the roof and feed me to birds!” He whines some more when he drops the key; he finally unlocks the door and enter, saying with unsteady voice: “Peter…?”

The young man is on the sofa, reading a book. His grip on it doesn’t look good though: he is practically clutching the hard cover, his face promises only glares, pouting and cold, offended replies.

The lights in the kitchenette are turn off, but Wade’s heart swells with love and more guilt when he sees their full plates kept warm in the microwave.

“Before you shout at me and kick me in the balls, can I do something first?” Wade asks and as Peter lifts his eyes from the book, he is pretty sure his skin would have goosebumps if it wasn’t for cancer and all that shit.

“I take that as a yes.” the poor man weakly adds disappearing into their bedroom. He can still feel Peter glaring at his back and when he comes back in the living room with some photos in his hand, the young man springs up with wide eyes and pale face.

“Wade…”

“Don’t panic!” the merc interrupts him before he can stop him. “It’s okay, Peter, I just want to…” he goes at the small table with Ben’s picture on it and delicately removes it from the cheap frame. He takes a small box from the shopping bag Peter didn’t give much attention to and opens it.

Peter, who came near to see what’s happening, visibly softens and watches quietly as Wade puts the new frame with three available spaces onto the table and slips into it three pictures: one depicting Aunt May, one he and Peter took together after a beautiful date at the park and Uncle Ben’s photo.

“This way your family will be in the same place. I… I thought it was a nice idea.” Wade blushes and clears his voice, avoiding to look at Peter. “You always say I’m your family too now, so I thought…”

He jumps a bit when he feels Peter’s warm hand taking and squeezing his own. The young man is looking at the three photos with a huge smile.

“It’s perfect. Thank you, Wade, this is one of the best gifts ever.”

He looks up at him, his smile now fond and amused. “Aw, aren’t you cute?”

“Shut up, web-head.” Wade elbows him, cursing the stupid blush spreading on his ears and the grin on his lips he can’t seem to stop.

“You still suck at pillow fights though.”

“Maybe you should teach me in bed, where pillows are known to most likely appear.” Wade mumbles lasciviously in Peter’s ear. The young man gives the frame a last, happy smile and then pushes the merc away, making him whine.

“The sofa has cushions too and that’s where you are gonna spend the night if we don’t finally eat dinner together _now_.”

 

As they eat, Wade thinks proudly that his gift really has been good, because the smile that appears on Peter’s face when he looks at the frame is the brightest thing he has seen in his life.


	2. Different Battles

Peter is the one who starts the fight and Wade can’t possibly refuse. He is not even sure why Peter decided to throw a pillow at his face - must have been for something he said -, but a challenge is a challenge and Wade Wilson never drew back from one.

“You’re in for a hard time, Petey!” the merc exclaims, already basking in the glory of his victory, but his self-confidence doesn’t last much. He forgot about Peter’s speed and agility and the sly, little spider has the nerve to jump here and there on the walls, dodging his pillow without problems and hitting him with the same ease.

Wade soon starts complaining, much more like a capricious kid, especially when Peter’s giggles fill the room.

“It’s not funny! You are mortifying me and people already do that too much!” he groans swinging his soft weapon again and Peter ducks, aiming at his legs and making him fall hard on his butt.

Peter drops his cushion on him again, laughing: “It’s not my fault you aren’t trained in pillow to pillow combat, dear!”

Maybe it’s stupid, but _that_ probably has something to do with Wade being bad at this. He never played with anyone when he was a child. He didn’t have friends to invite to sleepovers and even if he did, his father would have probably kicked them out.

His dad also may be the cause. The only thing his old man ever taught him was how to take hits, more precisely slaps, and, psychologically speaking, bad words and insults. Wade never played with someone, never learnt how to be _soft_ and careful even during the simplest and most innocent activities and his mercenary job surely didn’t help.

So it’s not really surprising when he finally springs to action, getting up with a wicked smile, mind overflowed by different ways to win, because winning is important, winning means you get paid, that the target doesn’t escape or you don’t get painfully blown up, blowing up is always so horrible even if you have a healing factor…

For a moment Peter disappears, there are just pillows, Wade’s triumphant roar as he hits him in the face and the loud _‘thud’_ of Peter falling on the floor.

It’s his shout that brings Wade back to reality.

“W-Wade, what the-?!”

Wade stares at him, turning pale under the scars. Peter slowly sits up, some blood dripping from his nose. It was the back of Wade’s hand, and not the pillow, that hit him sideways, but there was enough strength in the blow to scrape his nose.

“ _Fuck!_ Petey, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to…!” Wade lifts the smooth face by the chin, frantically wiping off the blood and babbling words of apology.

“Wade, what was that for?” Peter grumbles furrowing his nose and flinching when he feels a sting of pain.

“It was an accident!” the merc says, now extremely gentle and careful; he keeps touching the nose and asks Peter if he feels something broken.

“No, it doesn’t look like it. It hurts a bit, but it isn’t bleeding anymore.”

Wade pulls away, relieved but still guilty and extremely mortified, his eyes similar to those of a sad puppy. He drops his arms at his sides, not daring to touch Peter anymore, and the young man shoots at him one last glare, before sighing fondly and giving him a playful smack on the forearm.

“Did you really want to win so bad?”

“Sorry.” Wade repeats, his voice small and timid. For a moment Peter can see the shadow of a scared child in his eyes and now he’s the one feeling bad.

“It’s okay, honey, don’t worry. I…” Peter pauses when the merc suddenly walks away, disappearing into the bathroom and rummaging into something, as the noises suggest.

Peter remains still on the spot, wondering what Wade is doing now and hoping isn’t something too drastic. He knows how much Wade hates seeing him hurt and this time it must be even harder for him.

“Wade?” Peter calls, now heading to the bathroom, a smile on his lips. “Please, don’t take any bandages, by nose is not broken, I swear.” Just then Wade comes out, holding disinfectant, cotton wool and bandaids.

“Oh, Wade, I’m not hurt!”

“Yes, you are.” the merc growls dragging him onto a chair. “Chin up, Petey.”

“Wade, it’s not necessary.” Peter shakes his head and tries to get up, but Wade energetically pushes him down again.

“I’m gonna tie you.” he says raising his index finger warningly and Peter rolls his eyes with a snort.

“I have super strength, honey, did you forget?”

“Fine! I’m… I’m gonna threaten you with a gun!” Wade says desperately and Peter can’t help but laugh heartedly at his words.

“Of course.” he says with an amused, smug smile that clearly means ‘you would never do that’.

Wade responds to the silent words with a whimper and he can just plead Peter with his eyes.

“Peter, I’m already feeling shit for hurting you.” the merc murmurs and Peter sighs and nods, because he knows this exaggerate reaction for a simple, stupid blow on the nose is normal for Wade. He always tends to see problems and dangers bigger than how they really are, especially if they concern Peter, and this is his way to show him his love, to tell him that he cares about his wellbeing and he’s sorry.

So the young man lifts his chin and watches Wade gingerly disinfecting his nose, blowing on it to soothe the burning that isn’t really there. Then he takes the box of bandaids and Peter quizzically raises his eyebrows, because _that_ isn’t really necessary, it’s not like Wade can’t put band-aids inside his noise… right?

“Wade, where are you gonna put that?” he asks slowly, but his worry is replaced by laughter bubbling out of his mouth when his boyfriend places the band-aid on the bridge of his nose, his tongue sticking out for the massive concentration and difficulty of the task.

“Done!” Wade then announces clasping his hands. “And that color really suits you, Petey!”

“Oh God, it’s not Pokémon, is it? Tell me I’m not wearing one of the Pokémon band-aids you bought the other day.” Peter groans, but he is not really mad and he wonders which Pokémon Wade chose to put on him.

Wade seems to be back to normal, because he winks and answers not very enigmatically: “Who knows. Maybe you are, maybe you aren’t.”

Peter pokes him in the stomach, obtaining an unmanly yelp, and he’s finally allowed to get up; Wade stares at him, clearly expecting something, and the younger man thinks sorrowfully that he really still is a child at heart, a scared, shy child who only seeks approval and the confirm that everything is alright, that he is forgiven.

“Wade, stop worrying.” Peter tells him resting his hands on his hips, pressing their foreheads together. “It was just a pillow fight. Next time we will just be more careful.”

“I… I guess I’m not used to that kind of battles.” Wade softly admits, looking at his feet, and Peter pulls him closer to kiss him gently on the lips.

“I’ll teach you.” he says with sweetness in his voice and eyes. “And when it will finally snow, we will do an epic snowball fight, okay?”

“Okay.”

“And paint battles! The ones where you use toy guns to shoot paint and practically ruin your clothes forever!”

“That sounds cool, I guess.” Wade concedes timidly and Peter laughs and tightens his hold around him.

He will teach Wade that different fights exist, fights where nobody dies and nobody suffers atrocious pain, funny and joyous battles where everyone is the winner.

And he is sure that, with time, the traumatized child inside him will learn to play and smile again.


End file.
